


The Sun Shines Differently

by Farla



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: BTF, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s01e01 The End's Beginning, Episode: s01e02 Four Marks, Gen, Templar!Geralt, Templars (Dragon Age), The Last Wish: The Edge of the World, The Last Wish: The Lesser Evil, Witcher!Cullen, rbtp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farla/pseuds/Farla
Summary: Swapping the places of Cullen and Geralt. How would a witcher's jobs go if approached like a templar, and what would a templar with the attitude of a witcher be like?
Comments: 18
Kudos: 8
Collections: Fic Journal of the Plague Year





	1. Cullen at the Edge of the World

**Author's Note:**

> It struck me that if you looked at just the setup of witchers, humans transformed to better hunt and kill the monsters lurking in the wild, and templars, humans transformed to better guard the mages they live side by side with, you would expect very different things about how they view their purpose and where their loyalties lie.

The witcher stepped through the doorway. As chatter of the tavern died down there was only the thunk of his boots against the floorboards and the plip when another drop of blood fell from the heads he carried. A moment later, the bard flitted in behind him.

"Cullen of Honnleath returns!" the bard started grandly. "Having vanquished your devil -" 

Cullen plunked the three heads down on the table. "Not a devil." He tapped one of the horns on the goatlike head. "A sylvan, or so he called himself."

"A horned devil," the bard insisted. "With metal balls!"

"And he wasn't eating your crops, he was stealing them for the local elves."

"Pointy knife-eared bastards," the bard agreed sourly. He looked decidedly worse than when he'd left the tavern that morning. There was blood on his forehead where the skin split and his face was asymmetric from the swelling on one side of his jaw. "Come down from their palaces just to steal the work of honest people and assault us... Almost killed me, would've, if I hadn't the luck of riding along with a witcher when our paths crossed."

"I've never encountered a sylvan before," Cullen continued. "That was likely the only one around these parts, so you won't have to worry about that further. Unfortunately, the same can't be said about your elf problem." He picked up one head. "This one," he said, "she's probably no older than you, Jaskier. They've been breeding up there in your mountains, increasing their numbers again."

Jaskier stared at the slack expression, the half-lidded lifeless eyes. "I thought elves were ageless."

Cullen shook his head. "We're all born, and elves are no special exception." He reached out and stuck his hand into the jaw, pulling it apart. The cracked lips tore a little. "You can tell by the teeth," he said. "Bit hard to be sure on one so malnourished, but you see here..." He pointed at the back, turning it a bit so the others around the table could see. "Humans and half-elves both have wisdom teeth and these here have barely crowned. I'd say twenty years at the latest, born long after the Great Cleansing. Now," he said, addressing the crowd as a whole, "You have two options. I can put out a call, try to gather other witchers to deal with this, but it'll take some time. There's not many of us and there's monsters wherever we go. What I suggest is we gather up the men of Posoda and head up there now, put an end to this before it gets any further."

"I mean..." the young man who'd first hired Cullen said. "Haven't you dealt with it? The thieves are dead."

"These thieves are dead," Cullen corrected. He prods the sunken cheeks. "If they weren't sharing your stolen grain, you think they'd look like this? No, the whole community up there was in on it. And sooner or later, the rest of the lot comes down to murder you in your beds."

"That's, uh...Well...I suppose..."

Cullen reminded him, "They tried to kill you, Jaskier, just for being human."

"Been saying it for years," piped up a grandfatherly looking man from the corner. His face was a kindly mass of laugh lines but his expression now was dark. "Should've finished the job. Us or them, lad."

Cullen nodded and gave him an approving smile. "Exactly, good sir. Exactly. And the facts of the matter is, they haven't any other choice and so we're left with no other choice ourselves. There's nothing but rocks up there. The only way they'll survive is retaking this land. Now," he said, his hand twisting in a complex pattern by his side, "either we take the fight to them or you wait for them to come down to burn your fields and butcher your children first. I think you all know what the right choice is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic Journal of the Plague Year: The image of Cullen dropping the heads on the table struck me a while ago but I couldn't figure out how to expand on the scene. The benefit of society grinding to a halt, however, is it gives time to ponder my way through many, many words of meta, including realizing Jaskier starts off willing to argue with starving refugees about how they do so have grand palaces. The positive impact of Geralt on the lives of people like the sylvan and elves is rather obvious, but he has an impact on humans as well.
> 
> I welcome comments and I really do mean that. Are you confused about something? Tell me! Are you confused about something and think it's because I'm a bad writer? Tell me! Do you disagree about something? Tell me! Do you have any other sort of opinion on any of my writing choices? Tell me! Do you think you need to be better before you're allowed to tell a writer your opinion? You don't, tell me! Do you think this fic would be better if it was another, completely different kind of fic? I cannot promise I will rewrite it for you, but I am very interested in hearing about why you think that! Do you want to say something you are absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure I don't want to hear? Tell me! Do you doubt that and nothing I can say will convince you I won't get mad and hold a grudge against you forever more? Anon commenting is on, give it a consequence-free try! (You can put your actual email in there, I can't see any of that information.)


	2. Geralt and Renfri

The medallion on his chest is still and quiet, and it's only the rustle of feet through the leaves that warns Geralt of someone approaching.

"You've met with Stregobor."

"I have, Renfri." Her hands are by her sides, not quite going for the sword or the dagger but readying for it. His eyes catch on the asymmetry of her hair, like there's a snarl right against the skin of her scalp on the right side. He waits for her to ask but when the silence stretches on and her hands twitch and there's an answering twitch from the medallion on his chest, he says, "As it happens, Templars are not in the business of taking orders from court mages."

She laughs, an explosive, joyless sound like a log bursting in the fire. "No?" Then she corrects herself, "No. No, they didn't either. What did he tell you, Templar? That I was an abomination? Do you not care? I don't think they cared either."

"It's our job to care," he says, and gets another laugh. His medallion trembles as the light bends just a little around Renfri, like heat haze. 

"If I'd had magic back then don't you think I'd have used it?"

He says, "Even a trained mage would struggle to defeat a pair of Templars."

"But I did. Did he tell you that? That I killed them both. Only an abomination could do that. Isn't that right?"

He waits. The medallion stills.

She takes a step forward, a step back. Then she twists her head and parts her hair to show the brand on her right temple. "They thought it would be a waste to kill me. They'd never had a princess before. And once I was a Tranquil no one would know I'd ever been one. But neither of them knew what they were doing. He couldn't manage to both hold me down and hold my head still. Is that why it didn't work? If I let you do it properly-"

"No."

"Too late for that?" She bares her teeth. "That's what my friend said. That they could never burn my will to ashes if I made myself the flame."

"You're possessed, Renfri," he tells her quietly.

The leaves around her feet smoke. His medallion shakes. "Stregobor said I was born a demon but I never heard a whisper before they branded me. Is that why Nohorn came when I screamed? Because I was already a demon myself? Is this your proof?"

"You're possessed," he repeats. Light rolls under her skin like sunlight in a clear stream. "That's all. It doesn't make you an abomination. You're still in control. If you come with me to the Circle-"

The sword she draws ignites as it leaves the scabbard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think you can easily detangle who Geralt is from the organization that raised him. Just as in canon the witchers are often protecting people from humans, the Templars here were formed to handle mages but largely interpret that as handling the problems mages face.
> 
> I appreciate any and all sorts of comments. I think of writing as like a conversation and I welcome hearing people's thoughts whether they're positive or negative. Say literally whatever you feel like.

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome comments and I really do mean that. Are you confused about something? Tell me! Are you confused about something and think it's because I'm a bad writer? Tell me! Do you disagree about something? Tell me! Do you have any other sort of opinion on any of my writing choices? Tell me! Do you think you need to be better before you're allowed to tell a writer your opinion? You don't, tell me! Do you think this fic would be better if it was another, completely different kind of fic? I cannot promise I will rewrite it for you, but I am very interested in hearing about why you think that! Do you want to say something you are absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure I don't want to hear? Tell me! Do you doubt that and nothing I can say will convince you I won't get mad and hold a grudge against you forever more? Anon commenting is on, give it a consequence-free try! (You can put your actual email in there, I can't see any of that information.)


End file.
